The Earl's Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page A

Petershaw’s long-awaited heir. Further, as if to forestall any protests from Petershaw’s grumbling nephews, the new marchioness came home two months’ pregnant. Thus possessed of an heir with a spare on the way, Petershaw popped off to his great reward, leaving his rich widow to return to her sensual and retail pursuits.
    The marchioness sighed dramatically. “And so, this wicked gentleman,” she said, pensively tapping her cheek, “what reason did he give for such abysmal behavior?”
    At this point in the narrative, Isabella blushed. “He merely said I did not meet his qualifications.”
    The marchioness lifted both eyebrows. “Indeed? And these rarified qualifications included what, précisément ?”
    Fleetingly, Isabella hesitated. “I gather he wished me to be a little more . . . more . . .”
    “Out with it,” she ordered.
    Isabella sighed. “Ugly?” she suggested. “Old? Wart-riddled?”
    But the marchioness had begun to laugh. “Ah, now we reach the truth of the matter!” she said. “His wife’s doing, depend on it.”
    “He is a widower,” Isabella blurted.
    “Indeed?” The finely arched brows elevated again. “And what is this paragon of restraint’s name, I wonder?”
    “I should rather not say, ma’am.”
    “Then I commend your discretion,” the marchioness said, nodding sagely. “It is a woman’s most valuable asset. Still, did I not always say, my dear Mrs. Aldridge, that it would eventually come to this? You are too exotic—and far too beautiful—to make a suitable governess.”
    She had said it, but in the gentlest, most roundabout of ways. Still, Isabella was not a fool. She had grasped at once just what the marchioness was warning her of—then put it from her mind.
    La Séductrice was something to be envied and perhaps even feared by other women, yes. But wasn’t the impoverished, overeducated, and painfully naive daughter of a rural baron another thing altogether?
    Apparently not.
    Her face a mask of sympathy, Lady Petershaw was still studying Isabella across the tea tray, which Isabella had not even noticed being brought in.
    “My dear girl,” said the marchioness solemnly, “you have no future in this career. Trust me when I say that men will always want from you something else entirely. It is both your gift, you see, and your curse.”
    “But you hired me,” Isabella countered. “Was I not an excellent governess?”
    “Exemplary,” the marchioness agreed, grinning. “But La Séductrice fears no competition.”
    Isabella’s eyes must have widened, for the marchioness burst into laughter again.
    “Oh, my dear Mrs. Aldridge!” she said. “Do you think I don’t know what they call me? I hired you because I wished the very best for my boys. And in time, yes, you might find another such employer. But time, perhaps, is not on your side?”
    Isabella caught her lip between her teeth. “I never dreamt it would be so hard to secure another post,” she murmured, dropping her head.
    “And your straits, I fear, are fast becoming dire,” said the marchioness matter-of-factly. “You have your sisters to care for, yes? And children are expensive. Indeed, coal and bread and rent are expensive. I am not so far removed from my humble origins, Mrs. Aldridge, that I do not comprehend this. How may I help?”
    Isabella lifted her gaze from her lap. “It is so difficult to ask,” she said quietly.
    “May I make you a loan?” suggested the marchioness. “It would be my honor to do so.”
    Isabella licked her lips uneasily. She had almost expected the offer—and she was terribly tempted. Not for herself but for the children.
    “Thank you for such kindness,” she finally said. “But in the long run, what would it solve? Georgina is but six, and Jemima twelve. If I cannot find gainful employment, you’ll be making me a lifetime of loans.”
    The marchioness frowned. “Yes, I understand,” she grumbled, “but what was Lord Tafford thinking to leave the three of